


Forgotten, In The Middle of Nowhere (Or: The Collection of One!Shots About DEH)

by DeductionIsKey



Series: A Letter (Never Meant to Be Seen) [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Angst with a Happy Ending, Can I Just Say Sorry, Connor Is As Dead As Pre-2017 Taylor Swift, Connor Murphy The Ghost Therapist, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Meaning He's Really Dead Guys, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, Warning: Feels Will Come, no really, oh wait he's dead, the Doctor is in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-02-18 22:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13109778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeductionIsKey/pseuds/DeductionIsKey
Summary: ((It's senior year, and Evan can’t breathe. The bathroom stall surrounding him seemed to loom, his mind going and going and never stopping. And everything is white in a way he can’t imagine, like clouds and smoke and everything he isn’t. It’s all swirling around him in a constant of that aching absence and he can’t curl up smaller, he can’t move, so he just sobs.))A collection of one!shots for DEH, I am taking requests. All fics will be at least 1k.1. Gen: Evan's POV





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I just have feels about my Tree Bros I needed to let out and this was actually going to be a Ghost!Connor AU, but it turned out beautiful with shards of glasses and sadness. Oops.
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~Deduction

It's senior year, and Evan can’t breathe. The bathroom stall surrounding him seemed to loom, his mind going and going and never stopping. And everything is white in a way he can’t imagine, like clouds and smoke and everything he isn’t. It’s all swirling around him in a constant of that aching absence and he can’t curl up smaller, he can’t move, so he just sobs.

The cast, _(white too, it swirls and chokes and he’s drowning)_ showed his failure, his inability to do anything right. It would be better if he just left, was gone so the white could continue without him, and no one would cry, or if they did, he’d leave making it better than it was. His mother would be able to thrive on that one sum he gets, be able to live finally, maybe dad would come back and she’d be happy again.

People aren’t snow or autumn leaves. But they sure do looks graceful when they fall.  
-  
When Evan came back from the orchard, he’s shaking. He could pretend that nothing had happened, but nothing included cuts and bruises and the knowledge that wouldn’t ever be the same again.

Because he’d done it, proved he could do it and he _failed_. He knows that his mom’s bills get bigger the last month of summer, because of him, and the grey hairs he sees are because of him. It’s senior year though, and he thinks he can last, last for mom because she gets monthly pay for him, but soon he’ll be eighteen and it’ll stop, but he’ll still be a leech sucking off of people.

And then it will be time.

So he goes to school and smiles as his mom waves from the car, ( _inside he’s breaking, cracking in a way only he can, but he’s fine and he’s okay, deep breath_ ) meets Jared and rambling like he always does, bites his nails that aren’t there. Alana rambles too, but it’s full of important things and information, and he is spun by her, wants to reach her, but he trips and falls, even as she walks away.

He meets Connor, who’s angry and sad at the same too, who smiles even as he pushes him on the ground, but the smile wasn’t nice, it was coarse and blunt and everything people could hate.

He tries to listen to his Mom, typed the letter and spills his heart on the page, ( _even though today isn’t a good day, and Zoe could care less_ ) all the reasons he wants to live. They seem hollow and redundant even as he types them, but this is what Mom wants and he’ll listen. Connor comes back, this time with eyes that seems to be enveloped in sadness, though a frezzy surrounds him as well, making that sadness flare into anger and than I quells into unpredictability.

He signs Evan’s cast with long possessive sprawls, that spell the self-depreciation that is woven into his soul. Evan lets him yell when he sees the letter, because why would Zoe want to be with him, and Connor had a right to not want that. The shove is justified. The crumpling of the paper as it is stuffed into Connor hoodie is justified.  
-  
It's three days later, and Connor is dead. His parents, eyes bloodshot and desperate, reaching out to him with their hearts, begging for an answer, why Connor would do this. Evan didn't tell them it was because of the sneers, or the bullying, or maybe even _them_. Instead, he swallows his nervousness and lies right it their faces. He knew Connor, and they were the best of friends.

It doesn't ever stop hurting not even when you make room for it.

The lie he weaves is mostly a fantasy of what could have been, what would have been if he'd caught Connor’s hand and said: _“I see your act, it's transparent, you're dying too. Would you like to wilt together?_ ” It’s sadness and longing, nostalgia and crying. A dream, filled to the brims with imaginary things that never happened, that never will because Connor’s gone and never coming back, so why’s he hanging over his shoulder like a ghost, unlike Evan dons a black hoodie and shivers at black nail polish. Why are there whispers that no one hears, the typing of yet another email inducing comments of this Connor he imagined, typing until he didn't know who was Connor and who was Evan.

Sincerely, Me.

-

He kisses Zoe and everything is okay for a while. But it's just waiting in silence, Evan knows, nothing goes right for him, ever, so he shouldn't get his hopes up. But Zoe smiles at him with those eyes, and his hopes are raised higher then they have been in a while.   
-  
Evan’s mom finds out, eventually. And she yelling, but so is Jared, and is that Alana, they're all around him, yelling like Connor, but he's Connor and he’s Evan and _how dare they, he’s happy, is that enough?_ Everything crumbles around him like burnt love letters, or emails, or death notes, and he can't take it anymore, can't stand the lies, doesn't want the ghost of Connor Murphy to be left looming and darkening his world anymore.

He is good enough, he is loved ( _if not by anyone else, then by himself, and that's what matter the most, right?_ ) and he knows it's time to let go of long hair and broken bones.  
-  
So he tells, and watches the world wilt, like Connor did, like he is, and knows everything is broken, but at least something is fixed. Zoe leaves, like he knew she would, with a face like she never expected this, or maybe she did but never thought Evan was that kind of guy. It gets bad after that, his hoodie sleeve become flayed and his nails gone. But maybe it's better, Connor’s gone and done with, shadows abolished. So maybe the world shines a bit brighter, even though he's still broken inside, still scarred. Scars can fade and broken bones can heal, because Highschool is over and College calls, his future is right in front of him, he has to look forward, can't afford to look back.

All he sees is sky, forever. And maybe that's good.

 


	2. Deep Down (I Never This Never Works)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The world wasn’t made for people like you, Evan.” 
> 
> Which is why no one will ever notice if he leaves.

He took a step. His heart stung as he did, an aching that he couldn’t quite picture ever going away, that he wasn’t sure he even wanted to go, because it represented everything that he did wrong, all his stupid mistakes, and reminded him to never do them again.

Maybe he needed them. Maybe they needed him. But, that didn’t matter now anyway.

He took another step.

It was midnight, or twilight, or just darkness all around as the world slept. The problems of the world were being put on hold, at least until tomorrow, because even the evil villains needed their sleep. As always though, the exceptions to this calmness, the gnats that buzzed, that broke the tranquillity, were there. The seniors vandalizing cars, the man with a potbelly that yells at his wife as a baby cries. These were the exceptions, disrupting every part of that beautiful cycle.

Evan was one of them.

He could change that.

The bridge he arrived at was rickety, jagged steps of rotting wood that didn’t creak so much as squelch under his feet. The bridge was away from the city, he had made sure of that, measuring the area the whole year he’d been waiting, the police that came out here, the time it takes to call 911.

He’d have already hit the water if someone tried that.

It was a bit chilly outside, making Evan curl into himself slightly, the lack of a jacket obvious after the long exposure. The cold wouldn’t last long though, and neither would anything else because he was done with this, this cold that seeped into him and this dead weight.

He was ready. He braced himself, putting his hands out and counting slowly to himself. The final countdown to what was his end, but not the world’s, because the world can live without him, will go on in an endless spiral. No one would miss him. Least of all himself.

“You’re in too deep this time, you know that?” He turned, startled, at the figure that was fiddling with the dark hair band that resided on their wrist. Strangely, Evan could only make out the faintest outline of this person, whose whole body seemed to be wrapped in fog.  “You could jump, if you want to, but I don’t know if you do.”

(Vaguely, Evan remembered he probably should be scared. He wasn’t.)

The figure swung their legs over the edge. “Otherwise, why would I be here?” They laughed, a bitter sound that sounds what it’s like to be in Evan’s mind, like nothing matters, like everything dies anyway. “I’m not actually here, you know. It might just be your mind,” He spread out his arms. “ _Manifesting_ _your_ _guilt_.”

He says to sit. Evan sits.

“Everyone wants more, you know? Whether it’s a chick whose nose is too big or a family in mourning, everyone wants something.” Another chuckle. “That’s all you can really depend on the world doing, right?”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting more. That’s what drives half the human race.” He patted Evan’s shoulder, with his hand that’s uncomfortably warm, almost unbearably so, except how does that work, if he just a testimony of whatever crevices Evan makes in his mind, just an echo of sadness?

“This would usually be the part where I tell you how you have so much to live for. But, obviously, you don’t believe that, otherwise you wouldn’t be here, and neither would I.” He sighed, smiling wryly. “It’s funny, isn’t it? Life, I mean.” His smile grows wider at the look on his face. “Or happiness. You know, you wouldn’t have happiness if there wasn’t sadness? How can you be happier than you already are, when you’ve never been miserable? How can you smile when you’ve never cried?”

He pointed his finger at him, a cheap imitation of a finger gun. “Of course, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Which gives you a better chance than anyone to be ‘happy’, right? That even a glance of being content could count as happiness for you.”

He pauses. “Or, not. Because there are other people out there with a thousand greater mindsets than you, and you can attest to that, which makes your single glimpse so worthless in the end. But without those people, wouldn’t you be content? Or even, _happy_?”

His arm, covered by a dark polyester that’s as fake as Evan is, reached up to his chin. “Maybe. But isn’t that everyone? Doesn’t everyone see everyone else happier than them?” He shrugged. “But what does it matter in the end? Life goes on.”

Or maybe it doesn’t.

“People cope with their terrible lives in terrible ways, you know? They think, maybe if my life stinks, someone else’s doesn’t, so they go searching. And they find it, like it was destined. Find it in some random girl with nice lighting and a good smile. They obsess over them, until their life becomes a part of what they always wanted it to be. And that’s the end of their story. That’s all they amount to.”

“And then there are people like you.Those who don’t want to substitute real joy for something so obviously fake, something so temporal that there’s no real worth in it. And those people have the hardest time, don’t they?” They sit there in silence for what seems like a small space of eternity, the stars twinkling in the clean country air, a beauty that scarcely shows in the city. A cricket chirps.

“The world wasn’t made for people like you, Evan.”

Which is why no one will ever notice if he leaves.

What part of him wants to live anyway? Evan knows it’s not the dominant part, not the one that oozes and dies and hurts so much. Still, the fact that he never had a piece of him that wanted life was startling. He’d thought he was resigned to this, the only way out of being such a nuisance to his mom, the only things he’s ever caused being tired eyes and grey hairs.

“Well, yes. We haven’t done much, have we? You die now, you might not be found for days, maybe even weeks. You are in the middle of nowhere.”

That’s what he wants. Right? That feeling of obscurity, because that’s what he has always experienced anyway, and he knows, he’s intimately familiar with being in the background, a dot on the luscious tapestries of other’s lives. He’s used to, he’s _comfortable_ with that feeling.

When he dies, he wants to end with something beautifully familiar.

“You know, I don’t think you actually want to die.”

The first definitive statement that Evan had heard him speak the whole night, and even though the other questions and speculations had shaken and floored him, this calm, quiet sentence makes him pause. A flush of his cheeks. (What’s that?)

“What do you want? Huh, Evan? What do you _want_?” The figure’s right in front of him now, jabbing his chest with a cold, cold finger. “You complain and cry and beg, but in the end, you’re just a coward. A coward trying to find an easy way out. That’s all you ever do, and all you ever will do.” He’s almost yelling now, his voice biting and ripping cruelly into a part of Evan he knew not existed.

And suddenly, Evan was _mad_.

“What do I want?” Evan was shaking suddenly, rage like a wild animal trapped in his throat, clawing to get out. “I want my dad back! I want to live, to understand and be understood! I want to be living in my own home with my own family, not in a shoddy apartment that I only pay for because my dad and my friends and everyone who ever cared about me is gone!” He was shouting, furious. “But I can’t have any of those things, thanks to the world and their hateful crowds and their false sincerities and their murderous desires that will end anyone who looks them in the eye! Did my dad have to be in that gas station when it got robbed? No! And suddenly everyone’s so sorry and Mom’s working all the time, and it hurts and it doesn’t stop, it’ll _never_ stop-!”

He stopped, choking as the tears now streaming down his cheeks fell silently, bitterly to the ground. Those words had come up like bile, horrible and true, something he meant without wanting to mean it, something he had been keeping in for so long it had become a constant that he just lived with. His father had left him alone. Had _died_ and left him. He had _abandoned_ him here and he just wanted to go away from it all, wanted to leap and breathe his last, to hit the water and just… slow.

For a moment, Evan cast his head toward the sky. For the first time in a long time, he realized how beautiful the stars were. Burning nebulae in the atmosphere, until one day they just… went out.

“That’s not true.” When had he (was it a he?) sat down? “Stars don’t just die: they evolve. Depending on their mass, they’re just become dwarfs stars, neutrons stars, or just black holes, if they’re really lucky.” A sigh. “Everything has its end, Evan. But it’s not our place to choose that end. It’s _never_ our place.”

And now Evan was angry all over again. “Then whose place is it? It’s my life, I should decide, I get to decide, I get to decide!”

“So, that’s what this is? A decision? One last hurrah, one last shake-of-the-first at the Almighty? Because, right, how _dare_ _He_?” This time, a scoff. “Living takes more courage than dying. To look at all that is going wrong and state, definitively, that it _will_ change, that it will get _better_.”

“Your life isn’t just a pawn you can sacrifice to win the game. What happens when you kill yourself? You die, He looks at you, and all you see is disappointment and resignation, as He softly says: ‘As I expected.’ Will you be sent to the rabble? Then, the only thing that shall meet you is bitterness, agony and eternal fire.”

“Anything is better than this.” Evan angrily flicked a small pebble into the river and watched it lazily float down the stream. _Go_ _away_. _Let_ _me_ _do_ _it_.

 _Let_ _me_ _die_.

“Wow, I didn’t actually think you were such a moronic idiot. Did you even heard what I was saying?” He thrust his hand (they’re so _hot_ ) against Evan’s, turned them over to reveal his exposed palm. “ _Eternal_ fire. Not a century. Not a millennium. _Forever_.”

“Whatever.” Evan tried to grab his hand away, but the heat of the other boy’s only seemed to intensify. “Get.. get away from me! Let- let go! _Ow_!”

The boy’s grip tightened. “Feel this, Evan. _Forever_ , only a million times worse. A trillion times worse!” It was scalding now, and his skin was getting red, the heat viciously attacking anything cold it could find. “Ask yourself, really ask, why you want to do this? Is it a sacrifice for your mother, like you try to whisper into your heart, or just a coward’s way out? You think that what lies beyond that ice-cold water is anything else but pain and torture? For you, and your mistakes, as you throw away your whole life on some _whim_ -!”

“Stop! Stop! Please, please, _please_ -” The words that the other boy was saying cut Evan’s soul deeply, left him staggering, as his head ached and his hand burned. He wanted to run away, wanted to die, _let_ _me_ _die_ , _why_ _won’t_ _you_!

The heat in his hand grew up to his arms and into his shoulders, slowly razing everything that Evan had ever held dear blackened and voided of any importance. All that made up Evan’s broken mind was now clouded with that pain, that hopelessness, because it would never stop, he had made the wrong choose, he couldn’t save his brother, maybe he could save him, but even now he was just a wraith, blinking on the border of _Purgatorio_ and _Paradiso_. If he could just save one person, just one, maybe that would make it better, maybe everything would change, how foolish was I at the mere age of eighteen-

 _Wait_. _I’m_ _sixteen_.

And then, the pain stopped. The fire, which had scalded his hand until it had cramped into itself, was now blissfully cold, and his hand clean and free again. The agony that had pursued Evan’s mind now cleared and Evan suddenly realized that he was lying curled up on the wet ground of the bridge. His whole body hurt as he struggled to lift himself up off the ground, and when he does so, the only sight that greets him is the boy.

And he is a boy. Evan could clearly see his face, and clothes now. Black jeans, a black hoodie. If Evan had not just experienced what might have been the most pain he’d ever felt in his life, had not just been _burnt_ by those hands, he might have thought that the boy sitting on that log a ways from him was, to all extents, normal.

But then, he looked at Evan.

His eyes, a dark green, were as ancient as the old tree he sat on, ancient in a way that comes with pain, experience, and age, not merely one tragedy. His slouched appearance did nothing to alleviate the intimidating vibe he seems to give off. _This_ _is_ _a_ _man_ _who_ _has_ _nothing_ _to_ _lose_ , his mind seemed to whisper, and that reckless abandon terrified Evan more than his eyes ever could. And Evan should know what that look entails. He saw it in the mirror every day.

Immediately, Evan knew. _Who_ _did_ _you_ _lose_?

“His name was Collin. He was my brother.” The black clothes don’t seem to be very intimidating anymore, and the boy didn’t even move when Evan came to sit down next to him, his curiosity peaked. “He was the light of my life. Packer-of-Lunches, protector, the whole jazz. And then, he died.” His voice grew pained, and he twiddled with the worn-out white strings that held the hoodie he wore in place. Evan listened quietly. “I found him in the bathroom, you know? In the morning after.” He tweaked with the ties a little more and seemed to age a decade before Evan’s eyes. “I didn’t tell Mother, I _couldn’t_ tell Mother. Right away, I called 911, and then... They took my brother’s body away.” A short laugh. “I don’t think Mum ever forgave me for that. She always went on and on about how she hadn’t been able to say goodbye, how much she wished she just had stopped him.” His voice grew cold now, bitterness and honesty coating it. “But the body I found in the bathroom that day wasn’t Collin. The boy who had killed himself wasn’t Collin. To be honest, I think my brother, the one I loved, was gone a long time before that night. And some people you just can’t stop, no matter how many mothers want to try.”

He looked toward him, and Evan can only hold eye-contact for a short while, and then looked away in shame, even though he knew what he was now. Even though there was no use denying it.

“But that’s the thing, Evan. You’re not like my brother at all. You’re not Collin, you’re Evan, and that display you put on just a little while ago?” He smiled, amused despite himself. “That’s not a ghost would do.” He placed his hand on Evan’s shoulder and softly laughed when Evan flinched. “You still have life in you, Evan. You have a family, and friends who love you. If you don’t live for anything else, live for them.”  His smile rapidly vanished, and he whispered, leaning his head toward the stars as though it was only him and the endless galaxies in the sky. “I wasn’t enough for my brother, enough of a reason to live. And that fact breaks me down more than I’d care to admit.”

Evan was quiet, for a minute. Then, when the other boy looked toward him expectantly, he blurted the question he’d been puzzling over. “What… what did you do to me? I mean, _before_. It… it _hurt_.”

The boy laughed again, slightly louder this time. “That was the point, Evan. Do you honestly believe I’m real?” He turned away slightly, his tone lowering in what seemed to be reluctance. “Anyhow, I’m not allowed to talk about it. Let’s just say I’ve been given a purpose. Which, I, hopefully, fulfilled tonight. That’s all I can say.”

“Oh.” Evan said, for lack of anything better to say. He understood the importance of secrets, yet curiosity still ate at him.

“Oh.” The boy agreed, smiling again. The smile always seemed so sad, now that Evan really, really looked at it. Along with that, the boy seemed to radiate heat while they sat on that log, and though the air around them was chilly, Evan found himself perfectly content. No words were left to say, and the peace, a welcome change.  

Evan sat there, staring up at the stars with that mysterious boy for what seems like an eternity, and thought of his father, of his pain, and of everything else. As he continued down the line of his life’s regrets, gratitude suddenly filled him, and he turned toward the boy with a thank you on his lips.

The boy was gone.

It was quiet. The crickets were chirping, the stars were twinkling, and the birds were asleep, but Evan was alone in that musty forest, and only the sound of silence greeted him.

Maybe he had been alone all along.


	3. PDE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How can you be happier than you already are, when you’ve never been miserable? How can be you smile when you’ve never cried?”

*This chapter is temporary and will be edited and further reviewed. Please comment with your prompts in the preceding chapters or down below! Thank you and remember to comment and kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> WOULD IT KILL YOU TO STAY TRAPPED WHEN YOU'VE GOT SOMETHING NEW?? 
> 
> Well, if you enjoyed this 'new' thing that rips out organs and leaves them on the pavement, and please! Kudos and Comments are appreciated, and I read every one! 
> 
> I'm sorry!  
> ~Deduction


End file.
